Chapter Text
How troublesome. After all that work, after having to stay in that little inn overnight because Kohaku couldn't find some nicer accommodations in the end, and my roommate wasn't even here? Well, it left me some time to unpack and think. Father always said that the strength of the Fujikage lay in being able to calmly contemplate things while other clans raced on ahead. It helped to have noble blood coursing through my veins, of course.
I knelt to unlatch my trunk. With luck nothing had gotten too rumpled. It wouldn't do to appear less than prepared. What if my roommate was a Kuchiki? Of course, the Kuchiki would never grace someone with my blood, but what if? I hugged a juban to my chest, grinning. The world was all mine now, a treasure box that only a Shinigami could unlock. The person measuring my power hadn't been as impressed, but I could do better. I knew it. I'd just been trying to be tasteful, not overwhelming. Not like whoever'd unleashed a hurricane and knocked someone out. I wrinkled my nose and began refolding kimono. That had been appalling. Almost as bad as the blaze that'd come later, the scorching heat and blinding purity. But the sun-pressure had been... humbler. Less wild and more didn't-know-his-own strength.
I frowned, standing and smoothing my skirt. It had felt masculine, at least. If the gods kept up their blessings, he'd be cute and from a nice clan Father would approve of. Now, where had my brush and inkstone gotten to? The room was so cramped it should've been easy to find them, but the porters had been sloppy. I'd have to complain. Politely, of course, but it wouldn't do to let servants get lazy.
Oh, I'd stuck them in the bag. Silly Shinju, Mother's voice said in the tone that meant I was an idiot. I got to work setting everything else out. When it'd all been done, everything arranged auspiciously and neatly just in case I did get a Kuchiki, I stood back to survey my work. Did everything say I was from a good family that'd taught me to be a woman who met all the standards of Soul Society?
Yes, of course it did. I was a noble lady, born and bred for this. I beamed at the neat stacks of uniforms on our futons. This year couldn't go wrong.
Now, how about my roommate's things? It'd be good to curry favor with them now. I began ordering her things into tidy piles. Juban here, kanzashi there... what about this scroll? Where did I put that? I unrolled it a little, only to see gibberish. I tilted my head, trying to figure out which way the characters went, or which ones they were, but none of it rang a bell. A few crossed-out kanji were in place, but all the rest was foreign. Well, no use prying just yet. I rolled it back up and set it back with the brush case. A cipher, probably. My stomach sank. The gods' blessings had probably run out. I'd have a Shihouin-aligned clan member to deal with.
Wham!
I jumped as the door flew open, heart in my throat. Who- what- Oh. Ohh. A girl stomped in, summer storm lashing around her. Her head, tilted down, snapped towards me, half-covered in insipid ash-blonde hair.
My manners! Even with this barbarian, I had to present a good image. I pasted on a smile, rising. "Oh! I thought you'd get here just a little bit later than this, sorry," I said, inclining my head. "I'm Fujikage Shinju." And with your hair like that and your face all red, I can't tell who on earth you're supposed to be. "Nice to meet you?" There. I'd done my part and shielded myself from her wrath with all the right social conventions. Unwarranted apology, name-offering, pleasantry. All perfectly arranged.
Now to see what she did.
The girl stood up straight, brushing hanks of that faded hair to the side. "Hirako Nariko," she said, shedding tension as she looked me up and down. She smiled, piano teeth and glass shard eyes confirming it. Even if she looked more like a shadow of a Hirako than the ones I'd seen, golden skin faded to tan, golden hair faded to smoke, body pulled in close and tight almost like a proper noble. Only the sharp eyes and sharp face matched, despite the former being brilliant hazel. "Did you organize my stuff?"
I nodded, tucking the hair that fell loose with the motion back behind my ear. "I didn't have much to do," I said, grasping for a way to soften infamous Hirako obstinacy into legendary Hirako friendliness. Since clearly she lacked the typical social graces, or just didn't realize she looked ready to take my head off. "Um, if you want I could help you unpack. Unless you want to cool off a little bit and then do it; I could use the time to change into my uniform." I gestured at my beautifully folded uniform, willing her to notice and compliment the elegance.
She didn't, following my finger with a bland look. "Cool off?" Nariko crossed the room, dropping to her knees in front of the trunk and beginning to unload the remaining materials. I watched the scroll disappear up her sleeve. She stood and began to hang her clothes in the wardrobe with surprising tenderness. "It's not as hot as yesterday, you know."
What was she on about? I blinked, not even having to feign confusion. "Huh?" Maybe she was oblivious. A second or third daughter, maybe, not trained to be the face of her clan. "I just thought, you know, since you seem kinda upset..." I trailed off, folding my hands to keep from writing out the implication for her.
Her hands froze above a clematis-patterned obi. She half-turned, face slackening before a sheepish smile bloomed. "Don't worry about it. I blew up at my mom earlier."
Oh. So that was the sort of person I'd been saddled with. Disrespectful, unable to read the air, angry... Please, Kannon, give her some redeeming qualities. I prayed she didn't notice the way my eyes flew to heaven. "Oh! Oh, good. Well, not good, but I thought you might've wanted a different roommate." I prayed you did. I held up the red shitagi I'd been folding and unfolding, desperate to get on something she might like. "I wonder where they get this fabric. It doesn't feel like anything I've handled."
And finally, finally my efforts paid off. Nariko tilted her head, clearly putting some thought into the answer as she tended to finery for the times uniforms weren't required. "Color's kinda familiar," she said, voice slowing now, slow and deliberate. "I think that might be a Hirako dye."
I breathed a sigh of relief as I began to undress, careful not to be flashy. You never knew if someone was one of those... lewd women. But her eyes remained trained on the delicate kanzashi boxes, so I continued. "Really? I forgot that your clan works with dyes too." And it was true, a little warmth suffusing me at the commonality. At least we could talk shop. "Did you hear about a mistake with the Lady Kira's juunihitoe? The hitoe was too blue, so we had to switch it for a greener version at the last minute." It'd cost a pretty penny, too, but we'd done it. And she'd never known, so the blue cloth had been neatly repurposed with no one the wiser. Nobility, stagnant? Hardly. We knew what we were doing.
As words began to spill out of Nariko, hesitant in the way of someone trying to pare a lot of knowledge down to the essentials, I let myself relax. It had been a stressful day, I reasoned. Maybe she was overwhelmed. That had to be it. Not respectful of her family, and that was unforgivable, but I could work on her. A delicate raindrop could wear away the roughest mountain.
From the journal of Aizen Sousuke
Water's day, Fumizuki. My name is Aizen Sousuke. I attend the Shinigami Academy now. I have no mother. I have no father. I will blend in and I will have no friends.
I met a girl today. I think she was an enemy, or maybe half. She looked like the enemy living- no, the boy living with me. They aren't my enemies anymore.
(Here jagged scribbles mark the page until a torn-out section is reached. We come to a new page.)
Anyway, she was pretty. Not pretty like the dancing girls, or the stars, or blood on snow, pretty in a sneak-up-on-you way. Not ambushing! She was nice. Straightforward. She acted like she wanted to help, but it was a lie. We- I want to like her. But I can't trust her. None of them can be trusted, until I get it done.
She laughed when she first met me. It wasn't a pretty laugh, or a nice laugh. But she meant it, not like the dancing girls either. Her face was her face, her eyes were her eyes. She smelled good, too. The old rain and new wind made it easy to tell. And she didn't notice that I smelled her, so she didn't run. The old dancing girls, the ones who didn't meet the standards, she wasn't like them.
She didn't understand, but she helped. She said she would, anyway. Must've been lying. We have to act like they lie. They always lie, even when they don't. Because it isn't done, they're lying when they think they aren't. They lie. They lie. They lie.
But she had pretty soft hair, not too harsh. A strong body, but not too much on it. Bones there. I matched her motions later and if I remembered right they were gentle. And her eyes were real. They were beautiful, even narrow and knifelike. Living green like leaves, but also peaceful grey like stones, but also free blue like the sky, but also monster's brown like mine, like hers, like his. Common and uncommon eyes, that might betray and might not. I really want to like her.
They don't feed us enough. They probably never will. The food tastes disgusting, but they eat it and most of them haven't had to eat from the gutter and they're fine. So it can't be bad for me. I have to eat, or else I won't make it long enough to do it. And she was there. She really is the sunshine boy's sister. And she was so nice to that boy from farther out; she took him in on her own. The noble girl is a liar. We definitely can't trust her. She smells wrong and she won't help us. She doesn't like the rest of them, except she feels that pull in the gut for the sunshine boy. Shinji. We have to use names now, even if it's hard.
The classes weren't bad. Some of them are dangerous, but no one's good yet, so there's time to think and find the base level, the one they won't look at too hard. I'll be fine.
--
Wood's day, Fumizuki. My name is Aizen Sousuke. I attend the Shinigami Academy now. I have no mother. I have no father. I will blend in and I will have no friends.
I can't get the girl out of my head. I see her, I hear her. She shouldn't be there. Oh gods, I can't get her out. The things they'd do to her in that hell. The things she'd do to them.
It isn't her fault she's so wonderful. The other shoe will drop soon, I know. But I need this goodness. I have to be allowed it before it crumbles. She won't get close. I can keep her away, I know it. She'll be useful.
She's smart. Not complacent like Shinji and the grey girl. Shinju. She's a pearl, feeding off others' irritation to be sure. Nariko-- that's her name, I remembered. Amazing. She isn't like she says, just 'hard-working.' She is! But she's thunder too. I can feel it around her. She can climb high, too. And humble. She was polite and blank the way people are when they have to protest your compliments and she believed it. All I said was that the sort of sword we need makes sense to her the way it doesn't to me, and she didn't get it.
She isn't perfect. Nariko isn't. She can't be. But that's all I see. She respects me. She was smart, saw that I can't get close. And she didn't poke it. Concerned about me.
People don't do that. She has to want something. I have to find out what it is. I have to act close so I can stay clear.
She almost
(Here one and a half pages are ripped out)
It's all her. All the brilliance. She sees what there is and makes it clear. Not like me, who's running a thousand things at once in my head. I have to follow her, or it'll all be lost. She'll lead me to the sword!
We're the same, but we're not. In a better world, we'd be the same. I'm going to make myself the same, like her. She understands that.
I really want this to go well.
She's got a game. I know she's got a game, 'cause she talked normal to me and then proper to her brother.
Wouldn't be bad to hitch my fate to hers, I think. Not too hard, so I can jump ship if she's disgraced or something. Seems smart enough, and definitely a noble too. Not outright cruel, so maybe it won't be awful.
I rolled over, reveling in the softness of the futon. It was probably shit to the nobles, but it was just the right balance of comfort and support for me. No roommate so far. Maybe he'd turn up, so I'd had to stick my stuff on my side, but there was so much space! No one on my back to go out and look for people whose eyes found weak points too easily and whose hands sparked blue occasionally. No one lurking to snatch my stuff the second sleep got too deep. Food. Maybe allies that could become friends.
The brother doesn't seem that bad. He definitely didn't trust me. Got common sense, not like his sister. Heard him asking her her game. We might get along, him and me. She'll be the ringleader, though. I can see it. She has that look of purpose like Mari did. She knows why she's here and it's for her own reasons. But she's not connected like Mari was.
I frowned and sat up, back twinging with aches from the last time I'd been connected. That might be a problem. People might've judged her as different, as dangerous. If they were right, I'd be in trouble, and street rats didn't have backup. If they were wrong, it might keep me down.
Eh. It was too early. The nobles would be sorting themselves out for a while. I'd make it temporary until I found a better deal. Besides, she went out of her way. That had to count for something. Not that it mattered if she wasn't in.
I studied my hands. The calluses were there, earned the way any decent person earned them. I'd have to make them write for me. They had the killing part down, but all this civilized stuff was going to be tough. But who the hell cared right now? I flopped back on the futon, grinning at the ceiling. It was all set.
Now, what the hell am I supposed to do with this kid? She sure ain't who she's supposed to be. I'm supposed to get a shy brat, or an arrogant brat, or a clueless brat. Not a little kid spouting things she shouldn't, can't know.
Shutara's cord unraveled, and I let the kid in and thanked whoever the hell you're supposed to thank when the condition for letting you deliver the things you put your soul into forging nearly unravels. How in the hell did she know? How was I supposed to find out?
You could just ask, Shutara scolded. I stifled a curse. Spent so much time with that woman she wouldn't even leave me alone here. But she was right.
I turned, snorting as she came up short with a squeak like a rat. "Well, girlie, how is it ya know my name? 'Cause I've got a friend and usually he's the only one who's that good at guessing." A bitch to play games with, too.
Her face went blank remarkably quick, but I could practically hear the gears turning. "You're strong. Captain-class. And you deal with asauchi. Zanpakutou are a special interest of mine." She shrugged in a way that was supposed to look like a casual badass, but looked hella nervous instead. "I do my research. 'God of the Sword,' Royal Guard member Nimaiya Ouetsu. That's you, right?"
That was a bald-faced lie, even if her reiatsu said she believed it. Ain't no library with my name in it. I ground the edge of the active fraction of my reiatsu against hers. See if she gave it up. "Man, I just can't believe what you're saying, girlie. I'm pretty sure I'm not in any of the books you're allowed access to."
She didn't spook, just went still and looked at me like her books held the contents of my head and what she read promised her safety. Old hazel eyes crinkled. "You don't spend much time in Soul Society, do you? I'm a Hirako. It's our business to know stuff people want hidden."
I snorted—no way in hell some brat not even a tenth of my age got a laugh. Especially when she laid out national secrets like the Soul King's Palace like hanafuda. "Can't argue with that. The last one of you I knew had his nose in everybody's business too. C'mere and we can get down to business. I don't bite. Much." And because it was not my damned job to fix Soul Society's eventual problems and that kid was so convinced I wasn't going to get anything that I wasn't, that was that.
She stepped forward like I was her old man, not going to lay a hand on her if the world fell down. Or any decent one, at any rate. A tiny storm sprung up at the edge of perception. Inferior in volume to mine, but not the impatient churning kids had at her age. Cute attempt at self-defense, I snarked. Then laid it aside to focus, to decide her future.
As I set a hand on her soul sleep, above the heart, the mineral tang of rain filled my nose. Beneath it lay mist, reflecting sunlight and absorbing moonlight, a soft, harmless facade. Beneath the mist, summer storm waves reflected a sky split by screaming lightning. And beneath all of it, the foundation, slept the endlessly dark, chilling fury of the ocean. Too ready, for a kid. Too defined and purposeful. Brats not even past their first trimester might get annoyed by daddy cutting their stipend or less than perfect grades, but they didn't have anything to be furious over. For the nobles, they never had any fight in 'em yet, just the pissiness of youth. And Hirako never pretended to be anything soft.
I let my hand fall, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose like Hyousube did when he got sick of dealing with our shit. It'd give the brat airs. Besides, that weird-ass reiryoku made a weird-ass sword make a whole lot more sense. Someone's power had to make that asauchi sing its unique tone and it looked like I'd found whose.
"I was wondering who'd have that one," I muttered aloud so she wouldn't get the idea I was feeling her up.
A little color left her face. "What's wrong with my asauchi?" She asked, a little more reiatsu leaking out, pulsing like a rabbit's heart. There it was, a kid finally cracking like she ought to.
I grinned, basking in her worry. "Don't get your hakama all knotted. There's nothing wrong with it. I wonder that 'bout every one of my blades." Now, how to explain that to a should've-been-onmitsu Hirako, whose answers lookd to have run out. "Kinda like when you're brewing sake, and you wonder if your guests are gonna get the full experience out of it, taste all the notes, or just get drunk and spend the night throwing up. Up to them, not you, though."
Her chest didn't move, but bony shoulders came down from around the ears. "Oh. Okay."
"'Oh. Okay,'" I parroted back to her, trying to figure the best path to the asauchi. "That all you've got to say about the blade for your soul, girlie? If you're really a Zanpakutou nerd" -and not some demon in a little girl's body- "you should know the potential in that asauchi!"
I caught her going red from the corner of my eye as I set course and headed off. At least some girl there, making feet shuffle along at a nervous distance behind me.
Tongues of ethereal saltwater spread behind me. Damn, I'd spoken too soon.
"A curious little birdie, aren't you, girlie?" I called back. A dangerous one, too. There was something in the girl that rang funny, a clear note like glass, or a hammer. "Peck-peck-pecking away at the asauchi." Damn, I wished I was in her head. Tell her she was quickening them and it might scare her off. Might give her ideas. Didn't tell her, I might need force. That was a power reserved for me or Hyousube, not a brat who hadn't even cut her teeth.
Whatever was in there, the stench of salt retreated, tinged with self-conscious warmth. What was with the headache Hirako always brought?
"Sorry. They- they're alive, but they're not... I wanted to know," she murmured. Oh, gods, not this. Not the pretentious genius who acted like they weren't hot shit. It was bad enough to have them messing with things, but when they got all fake-humble they deserved a kick in the teeth. Unless she was gullible enough to believe philosophers who waxed poetic about Zanpakutou, in which case she should get out before she took the whole thing at face value.
I rounded a corner, snapping my step just to hear her squeak at the sound of flapping cloth. "Don't be so apologetic, girlie! There's ambition in you, no matter how much you try and hide it. You'll get a hella weak Zanpakutou if you're all mixed-up like that. But still, don't be examining other asauchi. Gotta make sure they take to the people they're meant to, you know?"
"Yes, Nimaiya-sama," said that fake-weak voice. I snorted, just to let her know I saw through that shit. And then came to a halt deliberately abruptly. Because I could.
"Can you guess, girlie?" I asked, gesturing to the rack of swords mounted in front of us. "Which one's yours?"
She didn't even bother to look them over, just shrugged. "No," she answered, a little green in the face.
"Straight-forward and coy," I warned. "Better iron yourself out, girlie, or at least reconcile them both." I feathered the asauchi with my reiatsu, muting it so they wouldn't take it as a come-on and turn their noses up at their real wielders. Just needed enough sense to hear their unique tones sung back. There. I plucked it off the rack, resting it on my palms. Good manners and all.
"Well, what're you waiting for, girlie? You know what this is, don'tcha?" I demanded.
Adam's apple bobbing, she looked at the blade like it was going to cut her in two. Or worse, be the wrong one. Moron. I didn't make mistakes with my swords. Finally she offered up her palms, lined cream still and waiting. I smirked. Still hadn't gotten pretending to be nervous down. I eased it into her hands and watched the transformation. I'd seen it thousands of times, maybe hundreds of thousands. It never got old, the moment where their eyes flew clean open and the lips parted, like they were drinking in the new world. The moment where ordinary itchings vanished and the soul went still.
She recovered after a moment, bowing so deep I thought she'd tip over. "Thank you, Nimaiya-sama," she said, straightening. I could half-believe the smile now, a bright glowing thing.
Keep that smile, I thought at her, perfectly aware of the awkwardness, thank you. You're not going to be a normal Shinigami. Too much brains to be content, too much wild blood to accept the broader status quo. Trick 'em long enough and they'll ignore how freaky you are, what you are. It ain't the person you're supposed to be, I know that much. Whoever's looking at me's got a too-old soul, eyes that ain't seeing what they should, that flicker before you speak so the chatter in there makes sense out here. But they won't forget. Whatever mission you've got that heart set on, do it and get out. I grinned at her to clear the air. "Wield it well, girlie."
She beamed back, big enough to split dusky gold cheeks. "I will, Toushin."
Heh. Hadn't been called that in a long time. I flapped a hand at her and set off for the registry. The second I'd gotten Hyousube's brush in my hand, I looked up at her. Damn, I hated when kids looked down at me. "Your name, girlie?"
The corners of her eyes tightened without touching the smile, just enough to say 'that's vaguely annoying but not enough to make a deal over it.' "Hirako Nariko," she said. "Written as 'flat child' and 'hard-working child.'"
I chuckled, remembering a smirking knife-eyed guy sprawling his lanky blond ass around the place and proclaiming his name was ironic, not stupid. "You didn't luck out, did ya, girlie? Okay, then. Let's get you back to the real world." I held the pattern her asauchi rang with in my head and pressed a dot on the paper by her name. If she did good, maybe someday there'd be another name there. I caught a flash of pink tongue as I stood, considered whacking her upside the head. But nah, memory said she'd get enough of that from whoever recognized her soul-tone.
We walked to the exit-entrance of the tent, steps scratching loud amidst the symphony of Zanpakutou on the edge of hearing. Reaching for the tent flaps, I stopped. Water took a jug's shape and even lightning could be caged. I couldn't just let her walk out there and fall right back into their clutches.
"Girlie?" I ventured, dropping the grin. "We won't be seeing each other again, so I'll give you a piece of advice: your teachers now, and your superiors if you make it into the Gotei 13" -and she would, if it took eating someone Hollow-style to do it- "they're gonna want a hard-hitting weapon outta you and they'll try and make you the sort of person who forms one. Don't let them succeed. I didn't invent Zanpakutou so a bunch of bureaucrats could create cookie-cutter soldiers with them. Be the kind of person whose soul shakes things up, yeah?"
Shutara's knot fell apart and we stepped out into the baking heat. "Next victim!" I called, watching the weirdest person I'd seen in a couple centuries jump. Maybe in a couple more centuries...